Fight Fire with Fire
by jenelric
Summary: His name is Verdock. A deadly assassin, that has the military itself scared. Almost 200 soldiers have fallen victim to his accursed flame alchemy. Recently sighted in Central City, Verdock prepares to take out his next target: Edward Elric.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or relating characters.

* * *

BANG!

A car to his left burst into flames, sending pieces of burning metal flying in every direction. He could feel the unforgiving heat of the explosion against his skin, and he ran faster down the streets of Central City.

"Shit!" Edward cursed as he dodged another attack from his pursuer. A streak of black flames flew, barely missing the top of his head; he nearly stumbled trying to avoid them.

"You can't run forever," the sweet, amused voice sang, making Edward sick to his stomach. Unfortunately, he knew the man was right. With that on his mind, he pushed himself harder. 'Almost there' Edward assured himself. He was almost there.

Another small explosion shook, and the pavement beneath his feet gave away. Edward swore; the ground coming closer at an alarming rate. Before he was able to think of a plausible way out of his current situation, Edward felt his entire body become swallowed in unbearable heat.

A mix of shock and intense pain overwhelmed Edward as he hit the ground, and a strangled scream parted his lips. The feeling of his entire body drowned in flames was almost unbearable. Almost. As soon as the worst of it was over, he slowly and shakily rose to his feet. He was about to carry on, when another wave of heat struck his legs, making them crumple in pain.

"Now that's better," the man's voice breaking through the thick layer of pain beginning to cloud Edward's senses, "we wouldn't want you running away, now would we?" As the man approached, Edward knew this was his last chance to get away before he was done for.

"Screw...you..." He managed before he stood and clapped his hands, trying his best to ignore the pain throughout his body. A bright alchemical light crackled, and a large wall rose between the two alchemists. Knowing it wouldn't give him much time, Edward continued running as best he could towards Central Headquarters.

'Almost there.'

The anticipated noise of his wall detonating into thousands of pieces sounded, giving Edward a sinking feeling. He took no more than five steps when a familiarly painful sensation overcame his back. Edward was thrown off his feet, and across the jagged road; parts of his skin tearing. He was just able to make out the building through his now spotting vision.

Once again he attempted to lift himself up, 'Almost-' another excruciating pain engulfed him, and he let out one last scream before everything went black.

* * *

A/N 

Terrible, I know. I'm more of reader than writer, but I wanted at least make an attempt, to see if I can find anything I can actually write well. So far, not so good. Meh.


	2. Chapter 2

"Deep second degree burns on the right leg, third degree burns near the automail ports-although not deep enough to damage the nerves, and first degree burns cover almost every other inch of skin."

At this point the doctor looked up from his notes, "he also has various cuts and bruises all over his body. Really," he sighed, "it's a miracle he survived."

"Yes," said First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, "miracles are not stranger to Edward Elric." She glanced at the small figure, currently wrapped head to toe in bandages, with his two limbs elevated. How he could still breathe, when it seemed every bit of skin was covered in white was beyond her. "Is there anything else that you can tell me, Doctor?"

Doctor Meyers massaged his forehead, as if collecting his thoughts, before answering, "His automail needs maintenance – no, it needs to be completely replaced...the ports as well," he added as an afterthought.

Hawkeye nodded in understanding, and headed towards the door. "Thank you for your–oh," her hand on the doorknob, she turned back to face him, "how exactly, did Major Elric come to arrive here?"

The doctor once again, flipped through his papers and frowned,"Mr. Elric was brought here in critical condition by a couple, who claim they found him in the ruins of a street not too far from here."

Hawkeye gave him an inquiring look, "is that all?" Doctor Meyers nodded, "Yes, ma'am. I took the liberty of taking their names if you'd like?"

Hawkeye gave him a small smile, "Yes, thank you." After collecting both names and contact information, Hawkeye left the hospital and headed towards Central Head Quarters. She looked over Edward's hospital report, and frowned. The Colonel was not going to like this.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Colonel Roy Mustang sat at his desk, pen in hand, glaring at piles of unfinished paperwork. He could almost swear that they were laughing at him, but ignored it and gazed at the clock, grimacing. Hawkeye would back any minute now. Not good. Dropping his pen, he turned to a pile of missions, picked up the top, and skimmed through the first few pages.

'...Doutern...nine murders...suspected alchemy...' He threw the package back down with an irritated sigh. Shaking his head, he couldn't help but wonder why the State was making _them_ take care of simple things as homicide. Of course, as a commanding officer he could always place such insignificant matters in the hands of new, clueless recruits. Smirking to himself, he picked up his pen and began doodling on the military documents.

Not too long after, a knock came from his office door. Mustang quickly straitened himself and tried his best to look as if he had been busy working.

"Enter."

As expected, Lieutenant Hawkeye walked into the office, gently closing the door behind her. She stood at attention and saluted,

"Sir."

Mustang pushed his work aside, intertwined his fingers as he normally would, and looked at her expectantly.

Earlier, the hospital had called to inform him a suspected State Alchemist had been taken in. He hadn't known of anyone in his jurisdiction who could have possibly been in such a position, although, a certain alchemist _had_ failed to arrive with his scheduled report the other day... Just to be sure, Mustang had sent Hawkeye to investigate, and he was now getting slightly frustrated with her hesitance.

"Well?" he asked rather impatiently, "What happened, Lieutenant?"

Hawkeye flinched slightly as he spoke, before answering,

"The Fullmetal – Edward Elric is currently recuperating in Central Hospital."

Mustang shifted in his seat and gave her his full attention, encouraging her to continue. Hawkeye nodded and went on,

"He was found yesterday in critical condition, resulting from..." here she gave him a strange look before continuing,

"...serious burns and other mild injuries."

Although he hid it well, Hawkeye could see the shock and displeasure in the Colonel's eyes. He studied her face as if trying to find fault in her information. Minutes went by in similar fashion until Mustang finally broke the silence.

"And...do we know the cause of injury...Lieutenant?"

Suddenly remembering the folder in her hands, Hawkeye walked up to his desk and handed it to her superior officer.

"No, Sir. However there were two that found him who claim they picked him up on Fourth Street, which happens to have been found in ruin, yesterday afternoon. The destruction seems to be the result of many explosions, Sir, although nothing has been confirmed at this time."

Mustang frowned as he picked up and flipped through the folder; his frown deepening as he read further into the report. After another few minutes passed in quiet, he looked up from the files to Hawkeye with a serious face.

"How long before Fullmetal is able to have visitors?"

Hawkeye stiffend, "The Doctor could not give a specific date, Sir, but he did say it would take at least a few weeks for enough damage to heal that would enable talking."

"I see," Mustang was quiet again; a thoughtful look in his eyes, "Your orders are to keep updated on Fullmetal's recovery, and report everything, including anything you find on that other case, to me. That is all. You are dismissed."

"Yes, Sir," Hawkeye saluted and gave him a warning look that could only have to do with his unfinished papework. She then left the Colonel to think through this new information.

Mustang began to put his work material away and got ready to leave, himself. Murderers and psychopaths would have to wait, it seemed. There were more important things to deal with right now.

* * *

A/N

Wow - that took SO long! And hardly anything happens! aw well.

Anyways, the REAL reason this AN is here is to say w00t! AND I just have to mention how incredibly AMAZING Transformers (the movie, obviously) was! Everyone who hasn't seen it, go. Now. ASAP. Doesn't matter - just see it! Best movie I've seen all year. so yah. cheese out.


	3. Chapter 3

5...4..3...2...1...

"Done!" Mustang shouted, throwing down his pen.

Hawkeye could only stare at him, wide-eyed in shock.

"You're...done...Sir?"

"Yes, Lieutenant, I'm done. The paperwork has been completed, the missions assigned, and I'm leaving early for the first time this year!"

He grabbed his belongings and headed for the door, apparently trying to get away as fast as humanly possible. Before turning the doorknob, he looked back pleadingly at his First Lieutenant.

"I trust you will be able to get these submitted before you leave as well?" motioning to his paperwork.

Hawkeye allowed herself a small smile and nodded,

"Is it really necessary to ask, Sir? Have a nice night, and give Edward my regards, tomorrow."

Mustang froze, his face falling for a split second before regaining his composure. He turned, and in return for her smile, gave his famous smirk.

"Of course, Lieutenant," then he was out the door.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Riding home in a military vehicle, driven by none other than Lieutenant Havoc himself, Mustang couldn't help but think of Hawkeye's last comment. The last few weeks had gone by much slower than he had hoped. Now that the kid was finally able to talk, it seemed the day of his visit (or interrogation as Mustang considered it) was arriving at an alarming rate. He wasn't sure he really wanted to see the extent of Fullmetal's injuries, or learn how he came by them in the first place. Memories of Ishbal were not something he wanted to deal with right now. Mustang shook his head, ridding his mind of the unwanted images.

After moments of undisturbed silence, his thoughts drifted to Edward's brother, Alphonse. Alphonse, who he would also have to face the next day. It had been hard enough telling him of his brother's situation. The idea of meeting with him face-to-face didn't exactly appeal to him – even if he was a suit of armor.

His train of thought was interrupted by the jerk of the car, and the drowsy voice of it's driver,

"We're here, Chief." Havoc opened the door and saluted, "See ya," he added as his commanding officer stepped out, a playful grin plastered on his face.

"Yah, yah." Mustang mumbled and waved lazily in return.

The short walk to his front door seemed to take forever, thusly informing him how exhausted he really was, despite his earlier departure. As he entered his small house, the desire to turn in early was growing faster by the second. Thankfully, he had been excused from work the next day, for going to see Fullmetal and asking questions was considered 'official business'. Normally Hughes would take care of such things, but...

He plopped unto his bed, shoving the thought from his mind in favor of a night's sleep.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

'Why did everything in hospitals have to be white?'

Mustang couldn't help but wonder as he was lead down a white hall, with white walls, and white flooring, to a door which just happened to be white. 'No doubt everything in the room beyond the door would also be white.' he thought miserably.

In truth, Mustang was trying his best to distract himself from thinking of what he was about to face. Going into a state of guilt and depression because of some burnt up child bringing back horrid memories was_ not_ something he needed.

"Room 217, Sir," stated the young nurse who he had followed through the building.

Mustang thanked her, and slowly opened the door. Two voices filtered through the slightly agape door, reaching his ears. He quickly identified them as the Elric's, and pushed the door open completely.

Any images he had had of Edward in some horrible, beyond-recognizable state were immediately crushed. A giant wave of relief and gratitude passed through him.

Edward was sitting up in his bed and looking quite healthy for someone who had gone through an ordeal as he had. Although, his skin did seem rather flushed, and bandages still covered his right shoulder, where his automail port should have been. Mustang could tell by the way the blanket fell on Edward, that his right leg, and what was left of the other were also wrapped in bandages.

The boys fell silent as he stepped into the room. Alphonse, the ever-so-polite one, stood up and bowed slightly,

"Good morning, Colonel."

Mustang offered him a slight smile,

"Good morning Alphonse, Fullmetal." he replied, turning from one to the other.

"Shouldn't you be crying over your paperwork, Colonel?" scowled Edward, his voice raspy, "Oh, let me guess. You're using me as an excuse to get out of it."

Mustang smirked, "It's good to see you're doing better, and yes, Fullmetal, you _do _tend to be quite useful in that area. However," he continued as Edward rolled his eyes, "it appears that there are more important matters to discuss at hand."

Edward let out an exasperated sigh, "Don't tell me they sent _you _for the inquiry on the attack?"

Mustang pulled up a chair from a corner of the room, hoping to get this over and done with as quickly as possible.

"So, it was an attack?"

The boy looked up, one eyebrow raised above the other, "Do you honestly think I could have done this amount of damage to _myself?_"

"I'm not sure what to think about you, Fullmetal. I ask you to bring me a report – you almost get yourself killed."

"Hey, this isn't _my _fault! I was on my way to _your_ stinkin' office when this happened!"

Before Mustang could respond, Al interrupted,

"Ok, Brother, calm down. Why don't we tell the Colonel what happened?" he turned to face him, "We were staying at a hotel not far from here. Brother went off to give his report, but told me he wouldn't be long, so I stayed behind and waited for him to return...which he never did."

They both then looked to Edward, waiting for an explanation on his part.

"Well, it's like Al said," he started, sounding slightly irritated, "I was on my way to HQ to give the report. Then out of nowhere, this freak decides he wants to do me in."

He made a short pause, where he presumably collected himself.

"He chased me down some street, where I...fell."

"Were you able to get a look at his face?" Mustang asked hopefully.

"No, I was a little busy trying to stay alive."

It was the older man's turn to be annoyed.

"Don't you have _any _information we can use?"

Edward tried to think of something he could give the Colonel. He was a little angry with himself for not being able to make observations in such a situation..

"I think – well it was kind of hard to see – but I'm pretty sure I saw long, black hair."

"...That's it?" Mustang was quite prepared to scold him for his lack of useful information. However, as he was about to open his mouth a second time, Edward's voice sounded once again.

"There was...something else."

"Oh?" the Colonel raised an eyebrow.

The young alchemist shifted nervously, keeping his eyes on the white sheets covering him.

"He...he was an alchemist."

The room fell silent after he had spoken. The statement had caught the other two off guard, and Edward himself was still uneasy about it. No one said anything – each lost in his own thoughts. Edward looked up at the Colonel, who captured his gaze with his own emotionless stare. Mustang thought of the destruction of Fourth Street, the boy's condition; if this man was an alchemist...there was only one branch of alchemy capable of such things...

"Fire alchemy," stated the boy, as if reading his mind.

A long, slow breath escaped his lips, "So, you're saying...this guy is responsible for your injuries, as well as massive destruction of public property...and he used Fire alchemy to accomplish it all?"

"That's the just of it," sighed Edward with a troubled look on his face. The new information he revealed put a whole different face on the already confusing dilemma, and they all knew it.

"I need you to tell me anything and everything you can about this guy's alchemy," Mustang breathed, running a hand through his hair.

"It's pretty much the same as yours, Colonel. Except..." he paused for a moment before continuing, "it's...black."

Although Mustang knew the seriousness of the situation, he couldn't help but make a face.

"...black?"

"Yah – the flames were black. I think the gloves he used were also black, but I can't be positive."

"Do you think having black gloves would really change the result of the flames themselves?"

"I doubt it. There must be more to it."

Al, who had been silent the entire time, decided to speak up.

"Brother, shouldn't we first figure out what effects the black flames have opposed to normal flames? We've no idea what they might have done to you."

"He's right, Fullmetal," said Mustang. He stood up, an idea formulated in his head. "If there were any 'special' damages, it will help us determine how his alchemy works as well." he then left the room, leaving the brothers to share confused looks.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Moments later, Mustang returned with a doctor, who had a thick folder tucked in his arm. When he was sure both boys were giving the two their fullest attention, he began.

"Doctor..."

"Meyers," the man offered.

"Doctor Meyers, would you be so kind, and go over Major Elric's medical report for us?"

"Of course," he flipped to a page and began to read, "...Major Edward Elric. Deep second degree burns on the right leg, third degree burns near the –"

"We already know that, old man!"

Doctor Meyers look up to Edward from his notes, clearly surprised at being interrupted so rudely.

"What my subordinate _clearly_ means to say," Mustang stated over Alphonse's apologies and Edward's grumbles, "is that we're looking for more...abnormal occurrences in Fullmetal's condition."

"Abnormal?" the doctor blinked.

"Yes. Anything that would be considered strange in the least bit. Considering how he was found, per se."

"Hmmm..." the doctor flipped through more papers until he suddenly stopped at one particular file.

"We haven't been informed of exactly what happened to Mr. Elric, but judging by how he was said to have been found, I have considered some facts to be slightly 'strange' and quite coincidental, actually." he paused for a moment, and when he realized he wasn't going to be interrupted again, continued.

"When you were brought here, there was a huge deficiency of oxygen in your skin. This is normal for victims of fires and such – especially those with burns similar to yours. However, in your case, not only was your skin oxygen-deprived, but your whole body was lacking a great amount of it. Even down to your bloodstream. The worst of it was in your lungs, which suffered severe damage. Coincidently, there have been many cases with like symptoms in the past few months. The only difference, really, is that you're alive."

He then paused for a small moment and let the information sink in before finishing,

"Unfortunately, the damage done to your lungs wont heal so easily, and may cause future issues – issues like restricted breathing, for instance. You'll have to take it easy for a while."

After Doctor Meyers had finished, the room remained silent. It probably would have stayed that way, had he not broken it for a second time.

"If I'm not needed anymore, I have other patients to attend to."

Mustang nodded, and the doctor stepped out, closing the door behind him.

"Well, that's interesting," mused Edward. "not the first, eh?"

"I'm sure the military has never been notified of any other incidents like this," Mustang murmured, more to himself.

"Unless it's being kept under wraps."

Another uncomfortable silence followed, and he took the opportunity to check his watch.

"I'll stop by Head Quarters to look into this Fire alchemist, and any other possible victims." he stated, heading for the door.

"Wait – Colonel!" Edward's voice rang in his ears.

"Yes, Fullmetal?"

"Here..." he barely mumbled and handed him a melted and deformed State Alchemist watch. "I need a new one."

Mustang's trademark smirk found its way onto his face as he accepted it from the young alchemist.

"Of course. I'll see a new one arrives for you _shortly_."

He then left, ignoring Edward's screams and rants; the smile never leaving his face.

* * *

A/N

Uh...yah. I was being lazy...which isn't uncommon for me. No real comments on this, I just like writing random stuff down here.

By the way, the first showing of Order of the Pheonix is showing Tuesday at midnight(well, around here anyway). If anyone's going to that tell me what it's like.

Cheese out.


	4. Chapter 4

The Bloody Boar was a small pub located in the slums of Central City. Not many people knew of it, and those who did, made their best to keep away. Others, who did visit regularly, would never be able to tell you why many avoided it. The food and drink were well prepared, the service was quick, and the atmosphere was quiet and comfy. Of course, those people would never consider the fact that they themselves were the reason most stayed away.

It is true that the pub's usual customers were considered, well...different, in the public's eye. Outcasts, criminals, even Ishbalans drank and slept in the neighboring inn.

The day was chilly. Rain was falling in buckets, as it had been straight through morning, and still through the late afternoon. Nevertheless, business for the old pub was the same as it had been, and probably would be every other day. The bartender, a gruff-looking middle aged man, stood at the counter, cleaning a glass mug with a torn rag. A pair of shabby old men sat by a dirty window, drinking and having a inaudible discussion among themselves. Other than that, a younger woman sat at the counter beside with a mug; surrounded by about another two dozen empty glasses, and a different lone figure sat at a table in a darker corner of the establishment.

The creaky opening of the pub door set off the sound of ringing bells, and all eyes went to the soaked form that stepped into the shelter. A pair of heavy, black boots sloshed on the wooden floor that creaked under the weight. The stranger made his way to the lone figure in the corner, and upon arriving at his destination, removed his black trench coat, placing it over a worn out chair. He sat down in the chair next to it across from the figure, both wearing an equal amount of black. A minute passed with the two sitting silently. When the newcomer was sure the other occupants had gone back to their own business, he spoke.

"Nice place."

The other signaled for the bartender to bring himself and his new partner a drink, then leaned forward, speaking for the first time.

"You failed, didn't you?" The man's voice was low and dangerous.

The other looked away frowning, refusing to respond to the sudden accusation.

"Verdock."

The pair quickly backed away as the bartender approached with two overflowing mugs of what seemed to be beer. The glasses made loud clacking noises as they were set on the table. After waiting a few seconds for the intruder to leave, they resumed their conversation.

"Witnesses," the man – Verdock started, "If I fried the brat, I would have had to fry them as well."

The other man let out a slow, shaky breath, not believing his ears.

"You let two useless beings stand in your way? What am I paying you for?"

"You're paying me to take out the kid. I'm not getting payed to get rid of anyone in between."

"Well, you are now."

Both exchanged looks, each testing the other.

"No more screw-ups," hissed the man. He grabbed his black cloak, dropped coins on the table for his half-empty beer, and left.

Verdock studied one of the coins the other man had payed with, a thoughtful look on his wet face. Draining the rest of his beer, he payed his own tab, and left the pub. As he walked back out into the rain he couldn't help but wonder if it was really worth it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The document storeroom in Central Headquarters held all sorts of confidential files and information. In order to even have access to the room itself, one needed special permission from very important people...or good connections.

Roy Mustang had good connections. Only that could explain his unauthorized presence in the exclusive room.

The military kept records of everyone; alive or otherwise. At the moment, Mustang was searching through military casualties. Beginning at the most recently deceased and working his way down; picking files off the many dusty shelves and tossing them needlessly away. As he skimmed through each folder, he named off the cause of death to himself.

'...shot in chest...beaten to death...infected knife wounds...'

Nothing of importance there. He had been searching for an hour now, looking for specific causes of death.

'...crushed under fallen materials...accidental shooting...stabbed to death..._fatal burns_...'

_Finally._ Hastily opening the file to see further, Mustang read it's contents.

"General Harley Morgan found dead September 17th, 1913. Death resulting from fatal burns covering the entire body..."

He closed the folder, placing it aside for the time being and began to search on. It wasn't long before he came across a similar case.

"Brigadier General Lyon Collins dead September 13th, 1913. Rushed to Central Hospital after receiving serious burns encasing the body. Died 0152 hours from oxygen-deficiency..."

Once again, he placed it aside and continued to search through the military records. The further he went, the more incidents he found.

"...First Lieutenant Rachel Jorkins...September 11th...excessive burning...September 9th...Colonel John Tamper...burns and lack of oxygen...fatal burns...September 7th...suffocation...September 3rd...General Bart Simmerman...Sergeant Lucas Williams...cause of injuries unknown..."

The dates of death were extremely close together, some even occurring on the same day. Hundreds of deaths alike...how could he not have heard of this?

When he felt he'd gotten enough from the military he turned to citizen deaths. The records he found were no different, although less frequent. '_It looks like we can cross off the chances of a psychotic murderer taking revenge on the military...'_ Mustang thought grimly to himself.

He gathered all related cases he could find occurring in the past few months and exited the room. On his way out he ran into Schieska. Being in charge of organizing and keeping the records room, she had been the one to sneak him some time inside.

"Oh! Colonel Mustang, Sir!" she squeaked. Her head turned from Mustang to the huge pile of files in his hands, a worried expression on her face, "You should hide those! General Hakuro is scheduled to use the records room. He'll be here any moment!"

A frown replaced the usual smirk on Mustang's face. How the _hell_ was he supposed to hide a stack of paper this size?

As if summoned by some bizarre force, the General appeared around the corner. Spotting the two he put on a smile and greeted them both.

"Colonel Mustang, Shieska."

"Good afternoon, General," said Shieska in a slightly nervous voice, as Mustang saluted. General Hakuro nodded to her, then looked down to the pile in Mustang's arm, and back to him with a sympathetic expression.

"Looks like you've got a lot of work to do, Colonel."

Mustang praised his luck and put on an exhausted look.

"Unfortunately. It's been like this for awhile now."

"You have my sympathies." he patted him on the shoulder and continued down the hall.

Both Mustang and Shieska exchanged looks and each let out a sigh of relief. Their moment of liberation was short-lived however, as Hakuro's voice suddenly sounded from down the hall.

"Shieska! What on earth have you done to this room!?"

She looked to Mustang, who gave her an remorseful look, and ran down the hall shouting apologies to the General.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"It looks like our Fire friend has struck again."

"Who did he grill this time?"

"The Fullmetal Alchemist."

"That kid?"

"He survived, though."

"But still. That won't last long."

"Hmm...that _does_ present a problem."

"Yes. We can't have one of our most precious State Alchemists murdered."

"It was extremely lucky that he survived."

"We won't be able to cover this up very well, if at all."

"If we can prevent it, we won't have to, and our problem is solved."

"For now."

"Right."

"One issue still remains."

"Who to choose."

"You don't know?"

"Haven't you ever heard that old saying..."

"Fight fire with fire?"

"Exactly."

* * *

A/N

So yeah. I don't know is Shieska is how you really spell her name but oh well. It WAS supposed to be longer but I got bored of the extra scene so it was executed. Not much going on cause Ed is taking so long to heal points accusing finger. Anyways, whatever.

HP5? Um yeah. It was kool in 3D, and better than 4, but it could have used a lot of work.

Cheese out.


	5. Chapter 5

The Flame Alchemist sat at his desk, once again, wishing he could be somehow be teleported to some far off location. For once in his career, instead of the desire to leave because of plain laziness, he wanted to leave in order to take care of _other _important duties. Going to the library, for instance, was something he should have be doing – not sitting behind massive amounts of unfinished paperwork.. Sadly, getting off work was only allowed for sick days and business. A trip to the library was not considered business, and he'd already used up all of his sick days near the beginning of the year.

However, Mustang had been very serious about this since his illicit trip to the Central document storeroom; today wasn't the first time he'd tried to get off for the cause. Everyday he would come up with another hundred excuses to be dismissed. All of which had no effect whatsoever on Hawkeye, who did all in her power to prevent any escapes on his part. Going after work was a possibility...if he didn't have to stay late to finish his neglected paperwork. To make matters worse, when he _had _been able to finally visit, a few days prior, he had come up with nothing. There were no articles in recent nor past newspapers listed having to do with abnormal fire-related deaths. _Surely something would have gotten out?_ Mustang had tried to convince himself.

The Central State library was huge, so surely he would be able to find something? However, the going had been slow; there was no way he would be able to do this himself. Once Fullmetal was discharged from the hospital, he'd have him help with it. After all, it was _his _attacker he was researching.

Even with that decided, he wasn't about to wait on Fullmetal without making an attempt himself. It would be at least another two weeks before the kid could be 'let loose'. The extra time being for the new automail the Rockbell's were going to install, seeing as Fullmetal's were_ melted _off. They knew a lot of strain would be put on his body to have it done in such a small period of time. But its not as if they could do anything about it – the bloody kid was already conspiring to escape the 'white prison', as he so called it. Anyways, there was no chance of him getting to the library today, maybe tomorrow...

Mustang looked back down to his paperwork. Perhaps if he could finish today's, tomorrow's would be in smaller amounts. With newly found hope in his system, he continued to plow through the white heap. He signed a military form for who knows what (he hadn't bothered reading it), when something in the pile caught his eye. He picked up a formal-looking envelope and examined the front. It was from the Fuhrer. He hurriedly ripped it open, then read the inside letter's contents.

_Colonel Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist,_

_After hearing of the incident regarding the attack on a State Alchemist under your jurisdiction, the top military council and I have decided upon taking the definitive action as we see fit. As of two weeks from now, a bodyguard will be assigned to the Fullmetal Alchemist, who was, and may still be the current target of this assailant. We have also decided that as the Flame Alchemist, you are the best official for the case. So, by the order of the Fuhrer, you are hereby assigned as Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist's provisional bodyguard. Please do not question our decision. Put your best into this, Colonel, and good luck,_

_Fuhrer King Bradley_

_PS – the paperwork was sent separately_

Mustang went through the letter twice to be sure he had read it correctly. _This is a joke, right?_ He turned to the stack of paperwork, and took a 5-inch thick folder filled with paper. The front cover read 'Bodyguard Assignment'.

"No...freaking...way..."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"HAWKEYE!!!"

Mustang's voice could be heard all throughout Central Headquarters, and for the first time in her life, Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye was actually _afraid _to enter her superior officer's office. It took a moment for the feeling to be completely dismissed before she opened the door.

Shutting the door behind her, she faced the Colonel and saluted. His face was red in fury, and if one looked close enough, they might have seen steam rising from his ears – it didn't take much to realize he was severely pissed. He held a thick folder in one hand; a letter in the other.

The sight almost made Hawkeye laugh, but she didn't, seeing as Mustang was wearing his trusty gloves. She slowly reached for her gun, just in case.

"Is there something I can help you with, Sir?" she asked sternly, yet innocently.

"What the _hell _is this, Hawkeye?" he demanded furiously, shaking the contents in his hands with rage.

Hawkeye walked up to him and took them in her hands, reading through the letter, and briefly scanning the folder.

"This is a bodyguard assignment," she stated.

"Yes, Hawkeye, I realize that. But what is _that_?" he said stiffly, pointing to the type under the mission heading.

"That is your name, Sir."

"Exactly. And what the _hell_ is my name doing on a _bodyguard_ assignment?"

"It means you've been assigned the mission, Sir."

Mustang seemed to grow angrier with each passing second. It was obvious that was not the answer he wanted to hear, even if it was the truth.

"I know, Hawkeye. But why would _I _be assigned something like _this_? There are plenty of _other_ people capable of babysitting!"

"Apparently you were considered best for the job." Hawkeye replied distantly, while rereading the letter.

Mustang scoffed, "Right. I'm just _perfect_ for the job! I can hardly last five minutes without having that kid take a fit!"

"Well that's something you'll have to deal with. You can't deny a direct order from the Fuhrer himself."

The realization of his useless frustration seemed to help Mustang calm down a bit. Instead of yelling like he was previously, he sat sulking in his chair. 'Why me?'

"Perhaps instead of sulking, Sir, you should look at this from a different perspective." Hawkeye started.

"Oh? And what _perspective_ would you have me look from, Lieutenant?" Mustang rose an eyebrow.

"As you said before, Colonel. Why would the Fuhrer use such drastic measures over something like this? We don't even have proper understanding of the situation yet. It makes no sense, unless he knew of the danger. Which means ..."

A sudden understanding dawned upon Mustang, brining him from his previous state, "...he knows more than he's letting on. He knows something we don't."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

'That meant Fullmetal was right when he said the military could be hiding something. But what could they possibly be hiding about this?'

Mustang contemplated as he sat down on his living room couch that night, his new assignment in hand. Part of his orders were to read and memorize every word of these 'bodyguard regulations'. _Ugh._ As soon as the words hit his eyes he knew he was going to hate this. Apparently they _really_ wanted him to take this seriously.

'At least Fullmetal is going to be suffering just as much as I am,' the thought made him smirk, despite the situation. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

He immediately regretted those words upon reading the first section of 'rules'. He honestly wondered if they were doing this to him as a joke of some sort.

_1. You are NOT allowed to kill your charge._

"No shit," Mustang said to himself. For a brief moment he wondered if the Fuhrer wrote that one himself, specially for him. He dismissed the notion and carried on.

_2. You must be with your charge at ALL times. Your charge must always be in your sight._

"You've got to be kidding me," he choked.

_3. Always be on the lookout for suspicious characters._

_4. Everyone is considered an enemy, unless you know otherwise._

_5. If danger of any kind is suspected, it is your responsibility to remove your charge from the endangered area._

_6. The charge's life comes first. You must be willing to give your life for your charge._

_7. Your charge is to be considered an item which needs to be protected, and nothing more. It is forbidden to have any kind of relationship other than bodyguard and charge._

"Well at least that one's easy enough," Mustang sighed, realizing that was probably the reason he was chosen. The higher-ups, well, almost everyone in the military knew of the tension between the two. The most peace he could ever remember while in the same room was their conversation during his hospital visit, which was barely twenty minutes. So, according to these rules, he most likely _was_ the best option they had.

With that in mind, he read on. Pages and pages later, when he felt as if his eyes were burning and his head exploding, he was prepared to get some sleep. Before tossing the folder where he'd most likely lose it, he read a small notice at the bottom of the list of regulations.

_Failure to comply to this system and you will be dealt with accordingly by the Fuhrer himself._

Oh yes, Mustang was right. He was going to _hate_ this.

* * *

A/N 

Meh. Long time to post, even though it was done when I posted the last chapter. But there was Harry Potter 7 (which was AMAZING!). I also just disxovered Metal Gear Solid, which is an AWESOME game. So yah.

Once again, I got lazy while fixing this chapter up. Which is why Mustang probably seems OOC (well, to me he does), and why it's short, and why other things I'm too tired (lazy) to mention.

And 1 more thing as I get further into this story, it will NOT be yaoi/shounen ai/hentai/other stuff like that. I don;t even know if anyone really cares or was wondering but NO. And that's all for now folks (lol folks).

Cheese Out.


	6. Chapter 6

"Please sign here, and here," said the small, blond nurse. She pointed to two sections of the form.

Grudgingly, Colonel Mustang grabbed the pen the nurse offered, and signed his name in the designated areas.

"Is that all?" he asked, exhausted.

The nurse smiled at him, "Yes, he's free to go."

He thanked her, and as slowly as possible, made his way to Edward's hospital room. 'And so comes the beginning of the end of my life.'

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Why is it taking so _long_?"

"I'm sure it won't be much longer, Brother," said Alphonse, who was becoming quite annoyed with his brother's constant complaining. Unfortunately, his assurance did nothing to lighten the older Elric's mood.

"I should have been out of here _hours_ ago! It's never taken this long before!"

"Well, the nurse did say she needed the Colonel to take care of a few things first," Alphonse reminded him for the seventh time in the past hour.

"Screw Colonel Bastard! He's never bothered to drag his smug ass down here before! Why start now!?"

"Maybe, because there are more important things to deal with before your freedom, shrimp," said an irritated voice from the doorway.

"Oh, hello Colonel," greeted Alphonse. Edward, however, whipped his head around, a scowl on his now red face.

"WHO'S A SHRIMP!?"

"Stop making such a fuss, Fullmetal," said Mustang, "as I said – there are more important matters to be dealing with."

Instead of continuing with his excessive yelling, Edward stopped to study his commanding officers face. His usual smirk was nowhere to be seen – in fact he looked utterly _pissed_ about something. Curiosity overcame fury, and Edward found himself waiting silently for an explanation.

Mustang used the silence to think of how he was going to say the very thing he had been dreading these past few weeks. After realizing that there was no possible way of getting through this without a fight, he decided to begin.

"The upper-brass have been informed of this little incident..."

"'Little!?'" fumed Edward. Mustang ignored the interruption, and continued.

"As I'm sure you've realized, they're not going to let one of their most prized State Alchemists be murdered." He paused; by the look of understanding on Edward's features, Mustang knew he had come to the same conclusion. "Measures have already been taken to assure nothing of the sort happens. Unfortunately, their course of action isn't exactly something we anticipated. You'll be expected to co-operate whether you like it or not..."

"Just spit it out already!" Edward snapped.

Mustang looked directly to him, expressionless.

"Very well. You've been assigned a bodyguard."

Edward stared at him, a mixture of shock and horror evident on his face.

"...what?"

"A bodyguard, Fullmetal. It's only a temporary measure, but don't think that means a couple of days. It will last until the Fuhrer deems it safe for you to go around by yourself."

The young alchemist let out a long, _slow_ breath.

"This is some kind of joke...right?"

"This is no joke, Fullmetal. Get that through your thick skull, now." Mustang was beginning to get impatient with the kid's denial. But Edward was nowhere near finished.

"What the _hell_ am I supposed to accomplish with some dumb-ass bodyguard breathing down my neck!?" he was concentrating too much on his anger to notice his superior's eye twitch in annoyance, "there's _no way _I'm agreeing to this!"

"Well, it's too bad you don't have choice. These orders were given directly from the Fuhrer, himself. There's no getting out of it."

Clearly defeated, Edward stared at the white floor, muttering curses under his breath.

Another few minutes passed in silence, while the three occupants of the room focused on random objects in the room; anything but each other. Edward, a question still nagging at him, was the first to break the somewhat-awkward silence.

"Can I _go _now?"

The others redirected their gazed towards the small alchemist. Mustang gave a curt nodded.

"Colonel? Who is this bodyguard? Are we going to see him now?" Al asked politely. Unlike Edward, he felt a bit better about all this; knowing someone was going to keep his brother safe. Of course, he'd never admit that to him.

"Probably some stupid military buffoon. I bet he couldn't beat me.Let alone _protect _me." said Edward before the other could answer.

"For your information," Mustang began as calmly as he could, "when the military assigns a bodyguard, they choose someone who they know is quite capable of the job – not some random soldier. In some cases, individuals are chosen specifically for the task."

"Oh _really_?" Ed taunted, "then _who_ exactly is this _individual_ who has been _specifically_ assigned for this task? I just can't _wait_ to meet him!"

Despite his own hatred for the situation, Mustang couldn't help but smirk. He then replied in his own sarcastic tone,

"Oh, but Fullmetal. You already know him."

Edward's face instantly paled; the smile was wiped clean off his face. A sparkling picture of Major Armstrong appeared in his head. He knew Mustang would have chosen him just to make his life a living hell. The thought was pushed from his mind as he now saw the hidden dread on the Colonel's face. Whoever was chosen obviously hadn't set too well with him, either. Edward couldn't take it anymore.

"Come on! Who the hell is it!?"

Oh well. Mustang thought to himself. It was now or never, and the latter, unfortunately, wasn't an option.

"The Fuhrer, and upper-brass, supposedly put a lot of thought into their decision...and apparently the best person for the job...is myself." he ended rather flatly. The words were out, and he found himself wondering how many awkward silences could possibly pass in a single hospital visit.

"..._you_?" gaped Edward, in absolute shock.

"That's right."

"You've got to be freakin' _kidding_ me! There's no goddamn way –"

"No, I'm not. Those are my – no _our_ orders. There's absolutely_ nothing_ you can do about it, so you're just going to have to deal with it!" Mustang had been in his role barely five minutes, and he was already sick of the kid.

"Screw you! You'll never get me to co-operate!" Edward yelled. He stood up to his full height (which wasn't saying much) as if challenging his commanding officer. Mustang however, had had enough.

"Do you honestly believe I _want_ to do this!? Trust me – I DON'T. But I've got my orders, and I'm going to see them through!"

They stood there, glaring at each other with everything they had. Al, who had apparently been forgotten, sat on the sidelines, waiting for the storm to pass.

"Get. Out." Edward growled fiercely.

"I thought I just covered that: I've got to _babysit_ your sorry ass!"

"You are NOT watching me get dressed!"

Mustang let out a frustrated sigh,

"Well try to be more specific!" he yelled, and stormed out of the room. Edward was happy to slam the door behind him, screaming "BASTARD!" in the process. It was lucky for everyone in the building, he never heard the word "Short!" yelled back over his own aggravated screams.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Damn that Mustang!" Edward glowered. After another heated argument behind the door, he'd finally convinced the elder man to wait outside the hospital.

"Brother, you know it's really not the Colonel's fault," Alphonse slightly scolded, "he said himself, he was against it in the first place."

Edward grabbed his clothing from his suitcase Al had brought him, and began to change out of the bland hospital garb. He felt a stabbing twinge in his right shoulder; his face scrunched up in pain.

"Your automail is still hurting, Brother?"

"It doesn't matter whether it was his fault or not," Edward said, ignoring Al's previous question, "he usually manages to worm his way out of doing things he doesn't care about. I don;t see how this time is any different."

Without another word he slipped into his trademark red coat. His hand was inches from the doorknob, when he paused and looked around to the room's only window – an escape plan already forming in his head.

"Please, Brother, don't go running off now. Just...try to hold up as long as possible. Please?"

Edward's shoulder's slumped; he turned back to Al with a frown on his face.

"But Al...how are we supposed to accomplish our goals with _him_ tailing us everywhere?"

Alphonse used his most convincing tone, hoping it would make his brother listen to what he had to say.

"I'm sure we'll work something out. Besides, the Colonel knows we don't stay in one place too long."

"I suppose..." the elder Elric turned the doorknob and walked out of the room, leaving the younger sighing in relief. He knew, however, any sense he might have talked into his brother would leave him the moment they met with Mustang.

He was right.

* * *

A/N

Yes, I know. Long time, short chapter. You can throw sharp pencils at me if you want. I'm not going to bother telling you why this is so late...but I have good reasons honestly! I also feel that the quality is bad on this...and it seems rushed...

I would do a better job, but I have to wake up for school in 3 hours, so...sorry 'bout that!

Ummmmm...I can't think of what else to say, so...Zzzzzzzzz...

Cheese Out.


	7. Chapter 7

He wouldn't be surprised if they could hear the kid back at HQ.

"I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!"

"Brother, it's been two minutes. Surely you can last...a _bit_ longer?"

"That's right Al – it's been two freakin' minutes!" Edward whipped around to face his younger brother, "And in those two minutes, he's cracked _twelve _bloody short jokes!!"

The trio were just outside the hospital doors, making their way towards Central's busy streets. Just as Alphonse had predicted, not ten seconds after Edward and himself had met up with the Colonel, the arguing had reignited. The younger Elric had no physical body, but he was sure he'd have one heck of a headache by now if he did. It was for that reason he felt terribly, terribly sorry for the elder man.

Mustang thought he might have been able to get through this. Making fun of the shrimp, and watching him get incredibly frustrated was always fun. It was the _screaming and ranting_ subsequently that started to get annoying after hearing it non-stop. He began to doubt his ability to survive this assignment.

"Well MAYBE I wouldn't get so worked up, if they'd chosen someone other than that _useless _bastard!" Edward's comment brought him back to the 'conversation' at hand.

"_Useless_!?" Fortunately, before he could retaliate properly, Alphonse interrupted, trying to speak as calmly as he possibly could.

"Brother, what do you think we should do now? I mean, we don't have any leads, and we have nothing else planned..."

Instantly, Edward stopped, his attention on Alphonse, and the previous argument completely forgotten (which left Mustang wondering how it was possible to change attitudes so abruptly). He raised a hand to his chin, looking as if he were in deep thought.

"Well, I suppose we can stay in Central a bit longer. I still haven't had the chance to read through the library here. Who knows? Maybe we'll find something useful around here!" he said, not exactly sounding convinced himself.

At the mention of the library, Mustang started slightly, as everything he'd been up to for the past few weeks came back to him. Now that Fullmetal was out of the hospital, he could have him help with his...private assignment. Private because technically, he wasn't supposed to be meddling in the Investigations department – even if he had the feeling that they weren't even _doing_ anything. The Fuhrer had made it very clear that as a bodyguard, his sole objection was to protect his subordinate. But, hey, if Edward was the one who decided to look into the matter, who was he to interfere? A small smirk slowly formed on Mustang's face at the thought of blaming everything he was accused of on the pint-sized alchemist.

"Hey! What are you _smirking_ at, bastard?" Edward's slightly irritated voice broke his musings. He looked down at the boy and couldn't help but widen his smile. The type of smile that seemed to say "I-know-something-you-don't."

"Oh, nothing. The library is a good idea, though. I have something you need to look over."

Edward's expression turned slightly irritated as he tried to read his superior officer's expression.

"No one asked _your_ opinion," he grumbled, but headed towards the building all the same.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The Central City State Library, used by the military, was probably the biggest in the country. It's many shelves were packed tight with all sorts of books and documents. Wooden worktables were scattered throughout the massive building. Seated around one of the many tables, Colonel Mustang was explaining his earlier investigations to the two Elrics.

"So...you've been searching up on this guy the whole time I've been trapped in the hospital, and you haven't found _anything_?" Edward asked disbelievingly.

"Well, I wouldn't say I haven't found _anything – _I just haven't found any information on him...directly. I found, well, wait here," Mustang rose from the chair and made his way towards the librarian's desk. Not long after, he returned with a stack of files and folder in his arms. He dropped them on the table and took his seat across from Edward.

"These," he said, spreading the documents over the surface of the table, "are recent cases of military and citizen deaths cause by burn-related injuries. How I came by them is of no concern," he added, seeing Ed raise his eyebrows. The blond shrugged it off and Mustang continued.

"As you can see, the dates of the incidents occur all around the same time. Not only that but the symptoms recorded are extremely similar to yours."

"So you think there's a connection?" asked Edward, thoughtfully. He picked up the folder nearest him and examined its contents.

"I'm almost certain. Unfortunately there's no information whatsoever on this guy," Mustang replied with an irritated sigh "I've searched through most of the military reports on all of these cases, along with past newspapers. There is information on the victims, but nothing on this fire alchemist." He looked over to the boys across him, but they were both staring off into space – apparently in deep thought.

"Hey, Colonel," Edward said slowly, "you mind showing me those newspapers you were reading through?"

Mustang looked at him, confusion and annoyance clear on his features.

"Did you not hear me say I thoroughly read everything I could find? There was no information."

"Yah, well, I think you were looking for the wrong information."

Mustang lifted an eyebrow, giving the boy a doubtful look.

"Just get them!" Edward snapped.

Not wanting to start another fight, and chance getting kicked out of the library, Mustang retrieved the newspapers he'd gone through just last week. There was quite a pile; the younger alchemist didn't even wait for him to drop them before grabbing one, and reading through. The Colonel gave Al a questioning glance, but the armor only shrugged in return. Sighing in defeat, he plopped onto his chair and grabbed a paper of his own to see if there really was any possibility he has missed something, as Fullmetal had implied. But after hours of going through the same articles, he gave up.

The small blond however, had apparently found something. Many newspapers had been opened and folded at certain pages. He felt a pang of jealousy, that _he'd_ been able to find something in less time it took himself to find nothing. Wait! Him? Jealous? He quickly berated himself for thinking such things. The kid probably didn't even know what he was searching for. It was at that moment that Edward looked up from his 'work'.

"I think I've got something here."

The other two occupants of the the table looked to him with shocked expressions.

"What did you find, Brother?"

Edward flipped through the various papers he'd put aside while explaining.

"These articles contain information on the victims of the attacks..."

"That's wonderful, Fullmetal. You've managed to repeat my own words and lose track of our original objective. We need information on the murderer, not the murdered." Mustang interrupted. Even though he had expected it, he was angry the boy had wasted so much time for nothing.

"We should at least listen to what Brother has to say, Colonel. There's more to it than that, right Brother?" Al asked, hoping he was right. He could tell Edward was about to explode at the insult, and was relieved when he slowly nodded. The small alchemist continued, but not before shooting Mustang a nasty look.

"By taking into account who was murdered, we can find out more about this guy."

"I've already looked into that myself, Fullmetal. None of these victims are related."

"That's not what I meant, Colonel."

Mustang concentrated his gaze on boy, now interested in what he had to say. Edward continued when he noticed he had their full attention.

"Listen to this.

'Yesterday afternoon, multimillionaire Jack Johnson died in Central City Hospital. The cause of death is currently being held from the public, however, a case of severe burning is suspected. Serene Smith, Johnson's aunt and only family member, will inherent his entire fortune.'"

"Lucky wench..." Mustang mumbled under his breath.

"I'm not so sure it was luck," Edward grabbed another case file and compared it to a different article.

"Patrick Henderson: General – very wealthy. Dies from similar cause. His entire fortune goes to his wife. If you look up most of these names, you'll find it's the same deal."

"So," Mustang began, "assuming these people were murdered by this one guy, we know he targets rich and famous people. That makes sense, but why are others getting the reward instead? It doesn't make sense that he would just let the remaining family members keep the money."

"Unless he gets a share."

It took all of three minutes to process what the young alchemist was actually saying. Even Ed, himself was slightly shocked of what had come out of his own mouth.

"But as far as we know," stated Alphonse, "only the one man had a part in the attacks."

"Just because people are working together, that doesn't mean they have to both take part in the actual murder," corrected Mustang, "However, if this is the case , that means we're most likely dealing with –"

"An assassin," Edward finished.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Mustang let out a long, slow breath. So that's what they were dealing with? It made some sense – after all, the kid _was_ the Fullmetal Alchemist. What wasn't right, was the fact that Edward wasn't rich, nor did he have anything of value. That meant someone wanted revenge – either on Edward or the military. He looked over to the boy, who had a troubled look on his face. 'He's probably trying to figure out which of his enemies would go this far to get back at him,' he mused.

"Brother..."

Edward looked up his younger sibling.

"Yeah?"

"What did you do?" Alphonse asked, narrowing his eyes accusingly as much as a suit of armor could.

"W-what do you mean, Al?" Ed stuttered guiltily.

"You must have done _something_, Brother! Why else would someone be out to kill you?"

"B-but that's impossible! I haven't done anything...more than usual..."

"You brother has a point, Fullmetal. If this guy is after you, there must be someone you've pissed off." Mustang gravely nodded in a sarcastic manner.

"Shut up! There's nothing! I've done nothing!"

"How are we going to find out who's behind this if you don't admit to your actions, Fullmetal?"

"I have _nothing_ to admit to, you bastard!" Edward said frantically.

"Why do you always have to be so immature, Brother?" Alphonse scolded, exasperated.

Edward stared at his brother, completely astounded, "What the hell, Al? You're supposed to have faith in your older brother!"

"I'm not surprised he doesn't trust you. After all, _you're_ the one who's always looking up to _him,_" said Mustang, not being able to help himself.

"WHO'RE YOU CALLING SO SHORT HE HAS TO LOOK UP TO SEE THE FLOOR!?"

Alphonse grabbed Edward before he could beat the living crap out of his superior officer, but the arguing continued. The three were causing such a ruckus the voice beside them wasn't even acknowledged.

"You shouldn't be so loud, Fullmetal. You might get lost within the sound waves."

"...excuse me?"

"WHAT DID YOU SAY!?"

"Sir...?

"I said you're so small you could get lost in all the noise you're making."

"YOU – "

"EXCUSE ME!!"

Both State Alchemists instantly went quiet and looked at the old librarian, who was now shaking and breathing heavily, a furious aura surrounding her.

"Out," she seethed, "get out." She jabbed a finger towards the exit to emphasize her point.

Without another word the they stood up and left, desperate to get away from the scary old lady as fast as they possibly could.

* * *

A/N

Mmmmm...I don't like that ending, but oh well!

More excuses why this took so long: it's called school, people. I'm pretty sure most of the authors on here know what I mean.

Anyways, I'm not going to say the next chapter will come sooner (but seriously, it will), but I will say that this chapter is dedicated to the scene of Ed eating the hotdog in Volume 4. Yah I know it's late, but I found that SO COOL!

So yah, see you all sometime...

Cheese Out.


	8. Chapter 8

Edward stared at the darkened ceiling of the military dormitory. He couldn't sleep, and it was no mystery why. The day's events, or rather, the discussion in the library, was imprinted in his head. He knew it shouldn't be affected him. But for _some_ reason, the thought of having a psychotic, fire-alchemist assassin after him was eating at his nerves.

"_What did you do, Brother?"_

Edward swallowed. Even he wasn't sure what he could have done. Maybe if he at least had a clue of who this person was...surely he'd remember _something – anything. _The fact that he had no idea why a killer was after him only made him feel even more insecure.

He sat up, resting his head in his hands and giving up any attempt at sleep. As much as he hated to admit it, this guy was getting to him. There was no doubt in his mind that a lot of that had to do with almost getting burned to a crisp not too long ago. A slight shiver ran down his spine as memories of an excruciating pain resurfaced, making him absently rub his pained automail ports.

A sudden sound outside his window startled him from his thoughts. Normally he would just pass it off as nothing important – the wind maybe, but for some reason he knew something was wrong. Despite the urge to crawl back further into the bed, he slowly rose and quietly inched towards the foreboding glass screen. He was painfully aware of his heart pounding against his chest faster and faster; he could have sworn that the room was getting colder by the second.

The window was only inches away when it suddenly shattered. Edward ducked, but still felt shards of glass pierce his pale skin. He looked up from the ground, and his speeding heart almost stopped.

The eyes of a horribly familiar man stared down at him. It took him no more than a second to recognize the fire-alchemist; the one who was after him now stood right in front of him. The man gazed at him with unforgiving eyes and smiled that cruel, sickening smile he'd had the day of their first encounter. Edward was frozen to the spot. No matter how much his instincts were telling him to run, his fear overpowered it.

"Gotcha," the man sang, and with one last all-too-happy grin, snapped his fingers.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Edward shot up from his bed, panting. He instantly regretted it, as his healed wounds stretched and ached.

"Dammit," he cursed quietly, not wanting to disturb the other occupants of the dorm. Because Mustang had to stay with him at all times much to everyone's (except Alphonse's) annoyance, they were forced to sleep in the Elric's cramped dormitory. It would have been much easier for them to stay at the Colonel's house but Edward wouldn't have it, and Mustang definitely didn't want a psychotic teenager with an unlimited amount of hatred for him to even _know_ where he lived, let alone sleep in his home.

As it happened, the Colonel ended up having to crash on the dorm's tiny sofa while Edward got the bed. Alphonse on the other hand was forced to sit out on the dorm's small balcony due to the tininess of the room.

Edward rose from his bed, not feeling as if he would be able to sleep, and carefully walked out of his room, into the dorm's 'living room'. He desperately needed some fresh air and some space. He tip-toed towards the door. His hand was on the knob when a weary voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Where do you think _you're_ going, Fullmetal?" Mustang murmured.

The blond scowled and turned to face the man sprawled on the sofa.

"Outside," he said, grinding his teeth.

"...and you think you can just leave without telling anyone?"

"Do I really need to?" Edward spat, "you seem to know everything I do without any help from me."

Mustang's trademark smirk graced his features; Edward knew what was coming.

"That's true," he mocked, "but I'll admit it _does _get difficult tracking down something so _miniature._"

"_Who're you calling so small you can't find him between blades of grass!?_" he whispered as harshly as possible, not wanted to disturb Alphonse or the other occupants of the dormitories.

"In case you misunderstood our little predicament here, Fullmetal, you're not allowed to go_ anywhere _without someone – namely me – to babysit you," Mustang explained, ignoring the boy's previous rant.

"I'm only stepping outside for a few minutes," Edward growled.

"You will stay here," the man commanded. His coal eyes pierced golden; his tone suggested authority, yet he still had that ever-so-annoying look on his face.

Edward looked as if he was going to give in, but he suddenly had a change of heart. He didn't have to take this. _He_ was the one supposedly being protected. That meant Mustang had to follow _him_; had to do what _he _told him to. The knowledge of this slight gain in power over that arrogant bastard left him overjoyed. He did well in hiding it from him, though.

"I don't have to listen to you," he stated calmly. With that said, he turned around and walked out the door.

The smirk was instantly wiped off the surprised colonel's face as the door was closed behind the small blond. Mustang had been aware that he really didn't have that much power over the boy's actions in this situation. He had just hoped that _he_ wouldn't realize it anytime soon. Oh well. So much for that.

Sighing, he got up from the hard, yet comfortable sofa, and grabbed his long black coat. He opened the door, and followed his subordinate.

_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -_

It was chilly outside. A cool autumn breeze blew by, making Edward's automail ache. He rubbed the skin that still pained him, wondering why he hadn't grabbed his red coat when he'd left.

"What do you want?" he asked, suddenly aware of a familiar unwanted presence.

Mustang suppressed an annoyed sigh.

"Does nothing get through to that thick head of yours?" he inquired.

"Only what you say, Colonel," Edward mumbled in return.

"You aren't going to make this easy, are you?"

"Nope," he said simply.

Mustang sat down next to his young charge on the cold white steps. Edward ignored him, and stared off into the opposite directed. This whole situation had gotten off to a terrible start, Mustang mused. Maybe it would be smart to make things a little better...for himself anyway.

"This isn't my fault," he began, "I never expected something like this to happen, so you can stop being a brat about it. You're only making both our lives miserable."

"You're miserable?" Edward asked, finally turning to face him. By the look he was giving him, he was seriously doubting it, "You're the one who seems to be getting a kick out of this."

Mustang snorted, "Trust me, I love this just as much as you do."

Edward only grunted in return. It sounded as if he at least accepted the fact that he wasn't the only one suffering. It was a start.

"Even if you don't co-operate, I'm going to be here. It would be easier for everyone if you just accept the help you're being given. Like I said before: I've been given a job, and I'm going to follow through with it, no matter what."

"Whatever...but I _don't_ need your help," Edward said stubbornly.

"No?" Mustang teased, raising an eyebrow.

"I can take care of myself. I doubt having you around is going is going to make a difference. At most, you'll only be in my way."

"Are you doubting my abilities?" challenged Mustang, only slightly annoyed. Who had the energy to have a full-fledged argument at this time of night? "Have you forgotten our little...exercise during your last assessment?"

Edward snorted, "You got lucky...and don't say little." Apparently he always had energy to start an argument.

"Well, no need to worry anymore, Fullmetal. I'm not going to let one of my subordinates die at the hand of some amateur fire-alchemist killer. Everyone knows shrimp aren't meant to be burnt."

Edward glared at the older man, wishing him to drop dead then and there. He felt embarrassed, as that was the reason he had come down here in the first place. It took him a few moments to respond.

"Who said I was worried? I haven't even given him a second thought." There was no way he was going to act like a scaredy-cat now. Not that he actually _was_ scared or anything. Ok, maybe just a little nervous, was all. Just nervous. Nothing more.

Mustang had a hard time believing Edward wasn't at least a little worried. He had a psychotic fire-happy killer after his life. Hell, even _he_ himself would be at least a _little_ on edge.

An icy draft chilled the two alchemists down to the bone. The younger suppressed a shudder, but the action didn't go unnoticed by the colonel. He was also freezing, and decided to forfeit the unspoken challenge.

"It's freezing out here," Mustang said, beginning to stand. He offered the boy his hand, "Let's go back inside."

As expected, Edward rolled his eyes, looking annoyed, "Can't take a little chill, Colonel?" Despite his mocking tone, he took his superior officer's hand, "Fine, if you _really_ want to, I suppose I can comply. Just don't get used to it."

"Oh, you're so generous, Fullmetal," Mustang replied, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

Edward grinned and ran inside, leaving the now-shivering Colonel to follow.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_7:35_

_..._

_8:37_

_..._

_9:39_

_..._

_10:43_

_..._

_11:56_

_..._

_..._

"Oh for the love of..." he rose from the sofa and stormed through the wooden door, barely five feet away.

"It's time to _wake up_!"

The small bundle curled up under the covers let out a tiny moan, but showed no other acknowledgment of the intruding Colonel.

"Fullmetal," he said calmly, "you need to get up."

The man had been awake since 6:00 that morning – the normal time for a soldier of his status – and had decided to wait for the blond teenager to get up. That was six hours ago. Who the heck sleeps in to noon!?

Deciding to try a different approach, he grabbed two dusty metal pots form the dorm room's tiny kitchen and stalked back to Edward's room. He paused for a moment, realizing how absolutely childish this was, but nevertheless, began smashing the objects together. He could vaguely hear the complaints of the neighboring rooms, who were most likely hoping to enjoy their day off. Mustang stopped for a moment, and looked for any sign of change.

Nothing.

Roy blinked, absolutely baffled.

It was at that time that Alphonse entered the room, no doubt wondering what all the ruckus was about. He looked from the Colonel and the pots to his sleeping brother.

"Oh," the small voice said, clearly unsurprised. He walked towards Edward and leaned forward slightly.

"Edward, wake up," the armor almost whispered.

The bundle on the bed gave another small moan and began to stir.

Mustang's jaw almost fell clean off his face.

"You're kidding me," he gaped.

Al noticed his perplexed expression and gave a small laugh.

"The easiest way to wake him up is to just say his name," he explained.

"Al, wha time issit?" the alchemist in question mumbled as he emerged from his blanket-fortress.

"It's ten after twelve," the Colonel answered before Alphonse had the chance.

Edward looked tiredly up at the Colonel before remembering the previous day's events.

"Oh," he looked around the crowded room and fell back onto the mattress.

"I'm going back to sleep."

"Oh no you're not," reprimanded Mustang, dragging the boy off the hard bed.

"Hey!" Edward cried, "what's the big idea!?"

"You are _not_ sleeping anymore," the older alchemist seethed.

"Alright, alright! Geez, calm down," he grumbled, picking himself off the floor, "just give me a minute."

His brother and commanding officer left him alone in his room. He slowly dressed himself in his normal attire, and used the small washroom attached to the room to splash some water in his face.

"Hurry up, Brother! Let's walk to the market!" Al called to him, from the opposite side of the bedroom door.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming..." Edward replied. Grabbing his pocket watch, he headed to the door, but paused. He took one last look back at the only window in the room, shook his head, and opened the door.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Tell me again, Al. Why did you want to come to the market again?" asked Edward, as he pushed past a mob of people walking the opposite way.

The Central City marketplace, where everyone and anyone sold and shopped with others, was always crowded with hundreds of people. Hundreds of people who always seemed to be in a huge rush.

"We've been working so hard lately," started Alphonse, "and you know, with the whole attacked and everything...I thought you could use a break, is all."

"It's not that big of a deal," Edward mumbled, more to himself than anyone else.

"If it wasn't a big deal I doubt the state would have asked the Colonel to watch you," replied Alphonse.

"I wouldn't exactly call this being 'asked', but your brother has a point, Fullmetal." added Mustang, trying to keep track of the conversation and the small blond through the crowd. Places like these were a bodyguard's worst nightmare. Especially when the person you were supposed to be protecting was so _small_.

"Yah, yah, whatever," grumbled the small alchemist, "I still think this is a waste of – " Edward suddenly stopped, causing Mustang to walk into him.

"Ugh, watch it, Fullmetal – I almost tripped over you."

Edward stiffened, but said nothing. Something didn't feel right. Finally, "WHO'RE YOU CALL – MMPH!!"

Roy covered his mouth firmly while rolling his eyes.

"Be quiet Fullmetal – people are staring."

Edward gave him a look that clearly said he didn't give a crap, and turned back towards the utter chaos before him.

"Al, what are we doing here?" he said, now honestly curious. When he heard no answer, he turned to face the hulking suit of armor.

"Al?"

To his surprise, Alphonse wasn't there. There were only regular people trying to push past him. He looked to his right, but the Colonel was gone as well.

What the hell?

All of a sudden the voices in the marketplace died down to a dead-empty silence. He turned around completely to find nobody there. The streets were empty. He was alone.

What the hell was going on?

Unsure of what to do, Edward began walking through the empty streets, looking for some clue to what was happening. Traveling down the barren city, he tried to make some sense of his predicament. This was definitely not another dream of his. He still had the feeling that something here was seriously wrong.

A sudden movement to his left caught his attention. His gaze landed on an alleyway not far from where he was standing. The sun that had been lighting the world now hid behind dark clouds, giving the city a depressing look. Black shadows poured out from the alley. He squinted his eyes, seeing a figure of something he couldn't quite place. Human, most likely. The thing moved quickly, retreating into the alley. Edward only caught a glimpse of a cloak fluttering, and the tiny hairs on the back of his neck prickled. There was something familiar about this.

Silently berating himself for what he was about to do, Edward looked around as if anyone was there, and bolted into the alley. He needed to know what was going on, and at the moment anything moving was considered a suspect. He didn't stop until his entire vision was engulfed in darkness.

"Hey, you!" Edward yelled. The cloaked form stopped. He wasn't sure, but it seemed as if it was much clearer than it had been outside the shadows. The figure slowly turned around, and he knew following it in there had been a bad idea. He didn't want to know what was going on, and he _really_ did not want to know who or what was underneath that hood.

Edward spun around and ran towards the alleyway's exit. It was only then that he noticed something was very wrong. Any light from the outside streets was gone; he was trapped running through a never-ending tunnel of shadows. He stopped running, panicking and desperately searching for an exit.

Edward felt something come up behind him, but before he could act, a blow from behind sent him flying forward, onto the rough floor.

With a mumbled curse, he began to lift himself off the ground. A leather boot made contact with his stomach, and he dropped to the floor once again. After that, it seemed as though he was being attacked from every angle and direction possible. Any attempt to retaliate or even move was futile. In a desperate effort to protect himself, he hid his face in his arms. Strangely, the only thing he could think about was whether or not he would be forced to go back to the hospital after this was over.

And then it was over.

Even though the pain had ceased, and the rushing wind in his ears had gone, Edward still remained in his protective position for a little while longer. Eventually, he took a peak, and realized his assailant had vanished. The sounds of busy shoppers returned to the streets of Central City, along with the sun's light over the land.

Edward stood, brushing himself off and wiping blood from his face. He felt a sharp pain in his foot and had to lean against the brick wall to avoid falling over. Among the noise of the passing crowd, two familiar voices drifted towards him.

"Brother!"

"Fullmetal!"

The blond looked up to the figures making there way over to him, feeling oddly relieved.

"Brother, what happened? Why did you run off like that?" Alphonse cried.

Edward looked to him confusedly.

"Huh?" he said dumbly.

"You ran off," Mustang supplied, giving him a strange look, "no warning at all. We've been looking for you for a while now...and you have no idea what I'm talking about do you?" he sighed, a little frustrated.

Alphonse took a step towards his brother when he didn't answer.

"Don't you remember that, Brother?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

Edward briefly looked at both Roy and Alphonse before answering.

"It's not that I don't remember..." he swallowed and wondered if they would think he was crazy, "it was just weird. You were gone – everyone was gone."

"What are you saying?" the Colonel questioned, "we randomly disappeared?"

When Edward nodded, he sighed again, and ran a hand through his hair. Edward took that as a sign to continue.

"Everyone just vanished, and I saw someone in a robe or something. I ran after it into here. It started beating the shit out of me, and then it stopped, and you two came."

When he finished his short explanation, Mustang and Alphonse exchanged looks and he felt a flare of anger inside of him.

"I'm not crazy!" he shouted, upset that they could even think such a thing.

Mustang's gaze on him softened ever so slightly, and he pointed to the foot he was obviously trying to keep off.

"You're injured," he stated bluntly.

Edward followed his finger and eyes to his foot.

"Oh, right. I tripped. I think I sprained my ankle or something."

"You have marks all over you!" Alphonse said,clearly beginning to panic.

Edward smiled, despite himself.

"I'm fine Al. This is nothing."

Mustang rolled his eyes, and walked to his subordinate's side. He grabbed Edward's arm and pulled it over his shoulders.

"You can't walk on that," he explained after seeing the boy's puzzled expression.

"Oh," Edward said meekly, and allowed his bodyguard to help him off the wall. They began walking into the street.

"We should take you to get your ankle checked out," Alphonse suggested.

Both Edward and Mustang seemed uncomfortable with the idea, but Edward was the first to answer.

"No. I, uh, don't think that's really necessary. It's not that bad – we can treat it back at the dorms."

"Only if you're sure, Brother."

"Positive."

Alphonse didn't look convinced, but he didn't argue. They continue on in silence. It was still early in the day, and now that the only plans they had, had been ruined, there wasn't much to say.

"Looks like we're going to be spending another day locked inside," Edward grimaced.

"The next _few_ days, you mean," corrected Mustang.

"So what should we do?"

"I don't know..."

It was a long ways from the dorms, and it was going to take them awhile to get there. Luckily, none of them seemed to mind.

* * *

A/N

ha...ha...ha... I got too lazy and didn't really edit it. I'll do it later. When I post the next chapter. In another year or so. XD

So it's a messed up chapter - wanna fight about it?


	9. Chapter 9

Bbrriiinngg!!

The loud, unruly sound penetrated the quiet morning atmosphere. Small birds' chirpings were drowned in its sharp tone. The bright rays of the rising sun filtered through the window, falling upon the boy's pale but peaceful expression.

Bbrriiinngg!!

He scrunched his face in displeasure, but opened his heavy lidded eyes nonetheless, although reluctantly. It took a moment for his blurry vision to sharpen, and he immediately recognized the plain, musty ceiling of his dormitory.

Bbrriiinngg!!

Edward groaned, rolling off his comfy bed while wondering who the _hell_ was calling him so early in the morning.

Bbrriiinngg!!

"Mm cmmin," he mumbled sleepily. He placed his feet on the cold floor and stood shakily, wincing as he put pressure on his flesh leg. Slowly – silently hoping the foul ringing would cease – he limped towards the infernal machine of disturbance.

Bbrriiin–

"'lo," Edward grumbled incoherently into the receiver. There was a pause on the other end, then,

"Is Colonel Mustang there?"

Edward didn't bother hiding the frustrated growl he emitted from the back of his throat. Without answering, he picked up the machine and eventually made his way past the door separating him and his superior officer.

"Colonel," Edward yawned. The older man was still sleeping on the couch and he immediately felt a pang of anger hit him. _Oh! So _he_ gets to sleep! Asshole. What ever happened to waking up real early?_

He shook the man's shoulder, vaguely wondering if the Colonel was as heavy a sleeper as he was. He got his answer a little differently than expected, as a blurry limb flew out and landed in his face.

Edward cried out and fell backwards, clutching his nose.

"HOLY HELL!"

Mustang's eyes shot open and he jumped off the couch, fully alert. Seeing no sign of the danger he had anticipated, he looked down at his young charge. The boy was holding his nose, which had begun to bleed. Mustang instantly panicked, thinking he had slept through some sort of attack. He bent down beside Edward, trying to get a better look at the damage.

"Fullmetal what happened? Were you attacked?"

Edward looked at him with the angriest glare he could muster.

"Yah, I was," he started. The Colonel prepared himself for the worst. He was ready to smack himself for sleeping through something so vital, when, "a psychotic colonel who is _supposed_ to be my _bodyguard_, punched me in the bloody nose when all I did was TRY TO WAKE HIM UP!!" Edward screamed. Mustang's shocked face turned sheepish..

"Whoops…you really shouldn't wake a soldier like that…" he tried to explain.

"Thanks for telling me sooner, asshole."

"You're welcome," Mustang smirked, but then it turned into something thoughtful as he realized what Ed had just told him.

"Why were you trying to wake me, anyway? It's still early. Is something wrong?" he asked quickly, wondering if something else had actually happened.

Edward shook his head and began looking around where he had fallen. Spotting what he was looking for, he picked it up and thrust his arm out towards Mustang.

"Phone."

He took the receiver while Edward stumbled towards the bathroom to clean himself up, and attempt to stop his nose from bleeding. Mustang watched him for a moment before turning his attention towards the object in his hand.

"Colonel Mustang," he stated professionally.

"Ah, Colonel," replied the voice that he recognized as General Hakuro's, "how are things? I heard quite a ruckus over there…is everything alright?"

"Everything is fine. We just had a small accident, nothing to be concerned about," replied Mustang.

"That's good to hear. Now there's something I have for you…"

Edward hobbled out of the washroom, holding a towel over his nose. The colonel was still talking on the phone, but his calm expression had changed into something almost desperate.

"You can't be serious," he argued, "this is completely illogical."

Edward couldn't hear what the man on the other end was saying, but he could tell it wasn't going to be good for any of them.

"Alright. I'll stop by soon." Mustang hung up the phone. He hesitated, then turned towards the blond, looking into his questioning eyes.

"We have a mission."

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

"A mission?" Edward asked curiously.

"That's right."

"What kind of mission?" he persisted.

"The higher ups want us to trail a series of murders that have occurred in certain areas around Rush Valley. They're pretty sure the various burn wounds are related to yours."

Comprehension slowly crept over Edward's face; he looked completely shocked.

"That means…"

"That's right. They're sending us after the assassin."

Edward could hardly believe what he was hearing. After all the work the military was putting into protecting him, assigning him a bodyguard, and they wanted _him_ to go after the psycho?

"But…but that doesn't make any sense!" Edward said, almost pleading, "I mean, how are we supposed to catch this guy? Do they want me to sit out like a slab of meat, and wait until he decides to cook me well done!?"

Edward's voice was reaching hysterics. Mustang watched the small blond pace back and forth, slightly concerned, if not disturbed. It was no question that the boy was uneasy of the whole situation, but he hadn't realized how much it was really bothering him. Now, watching his subordinate, it was quite obvious how scared he really was. The sight was quite unsettling.

Even though the Colonel had issues with the younger alchemist, he felt compelled to at least help him regain his composure. Seeing Edward like that made him feel responsible for his distress, as if it was his responsibility to fix it.

"Fullmetal," he hesitated, for once unsure of what to say, "I don't know many details yet, but I'm sure the higher-ups have a reason for giving this mission to us. There's no way they would simply serve you up on a platter, so don't worry about it. Besides," he added reassuringly, "Alphonse and I will be accompanying you. As far as I know, they still want you fully protected."

Edward stopped and watched his superior, relief and hope in his eyes. However, he quickly realized his mistake, and went to looking annoyed and uncaring. He stormed back into his room, yelling behind him,

"Well, what are you waiting for? We might as well get this over with, and find out exactly what the hell is going on!"

Mustang understood and began to dress. He did say he would be there shortly, anyway. As he was getting ready, he couldn't help but think of this strange news. Edward knew it as well as he did; it just didn't make sense. There was definitely something wrong with this mission.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Not long after, Edward and Alphonse were sitting outside one of the many offices in Central Headquarters. Upon their arrival, an officer Edward knew to be General Hakuro greeted them, and told both him and his brother they were to wait outside while he spoke with Mustang. There were no chairs outside the office, so the boys sat on the cold marble floor, waiting for the colonel to return.

At first Edward had passed the time attempting to eavesdrop on the solders' conversation. Unfortunately, he could make out nothing but incoherent mumbling, and abandoned the task in favour of staring at the floor.

Half an hour passed. Edward had resorted to tapping his left foot, twiddling his thumbs, and releasing long, over dramatic groans every two minutes. He was about to ask Alphonse the time, like he had less than one minute ago, when a long, dark shadow fell over the two boys. Edward and Alphonse looked up into the eyes of Brigadier General Basque Grand, the Iron Blood Alchemist.

The man looked exactly the same way he had the first time Edward had had the displeasure of meeting him. He knew the man was a complete asshole from the start. His stiff and disciplines posture, his dark, threatening eyes, and his creepy moustache were only the first of many signs Edward had singled out. Grand was a sleaze ball who bent the rules for his own selfish gain, and had no problem hurting others if it meant getting what he wanted. Edward knew this all too well. The fact that no one had taken any measure to put him straight frustrated him to no end. Although, he knew he couldn't blame anyone for casting a blind eye to his corruption. The man was an expert when it came to covering up evidence, and with such a high military rank and combat skill…he was someone Edward definitely did not want to mess with. The man's sudden appearance really bothered him, although he hid it well.

"Edward Elric," said Grand. It wasn't a greeting. He was demanding his attention, and Edward didn't have the guts to refuse. The first and last time they had seen each other hadn't gone too smoothly. Edward hoped he wasn't planning on giving him trouble now. He absolutely hated the man, but he attempted to at least be polite in acknowledging the bastard's presence.

"Brigadier General, Sir."

"I've been hearing some things about you, boy," the man said, completely ignoring Edward's attempt at civil conversation, if you could even call it that. Edward sat still and waited for him to continue.

"Almost everyone around these parts has heard of your … little accident."

He was taunting him, much to Edward's frustration. He held back the strong urge to slam his fist into the bastard's ugly face. Grand had paused for a few seconds, as if waiting for him to respond so he could somehow use his actions against him. When Edward didn't go for the bait, he continued.

"Something like that would normally be cast off as a random military personnel attack due to some unimportant reason or other. The state would look into it for a week or so, before abandoning the case. But for some reason, they're treating _your_ case differently. Now why would that be?"

As he finished the question, he leaned closer to Edward, who felt uneasy sitting at such a low point and begin backing up against the wall. He was feeling really uneasy these days…

As calm as he could manage, Edward replied,

"I don't know. I only do what I'm ordered to."

Grand's face contorted in rage. He viciously grabbed the front of Edward's shirt, pulling him up off the floor.

"Hey!" said Edward.

"Bullshit!" he hissed, "do you think I'm _stupid_, boy? I _know _about the other murders, I've _seen_ the resemblance, and I know you've been snooping around into things you shouldn't be. If there have been so many similar incidents, why the hell is the Fuhrer only _now_ deciding to take action? Why are _you_ being protected?"

With each question Grand demanded be answered, he pulled harder on his shirt until Edward's face was barely an inch from his own. He could feel the man's hot breath on his face. He tried to turn away, but the soldier's hand forcibly turned his head towards him. Edward caught sight of his younger brother out of the corner of his eye. Alphonse looked unsure of what to do; he obviously wanted to help, but he wasn't sure what the Brigadier General was capable of.

"Tell me!"

"I don't know –"

A creaking sound to their left caught them both off guard. Colonel Mustang came walking out of General Hakuro's office bearing a thick envelope. He stopped suddenly, observing the scene before him. Grand still refused to release Edward, intent on getting the answers he wanted at any cost. Mustang's eyes travelled Alphonse to Edward, and finally lingered on Grand.

"What are you doing, General?" he asked coolly, eyes blazing with an intensity Edward rarely witnessed. Grand glared back at him.

"I have a few questions for the Fullmetal Alchemist. Since he's not being co-operative, I have the right to use any means necessary to obtain any information I consider vital to the State," he said, looking smug. The Colonel, however, paid no heed to the man's words.

"Well, as a State appointed bodyguard, I have the right to terminate any person who I believe is threatening my charge. And right now, I think you're threatening my charge." Mustang raised a gloved hand in a snapping position, daring him to challenge his authority.

Grand scowled and dropped Edward onto the floor. Without a word, he turned and stalked down the hall, leaving the three alone outside the office door. The Colonel didn't say another word of the situation, but got right down to business.

"Let's get out of here. There's something we need to talk about."

Both Elrics were quick to follow. Alphonse leaned in close to his older brother, trying to keep his voice low, so only Edward could hear.

"Wow, Brother! The Colonel is so cool!" he squeaked.

Edward rolled his eyes at his brother's childish behaviour.

"Shut up, Al. You're just easily amused. It wasn't cool at all."

Although the boys kept their voices low, their small conversation didn't escape Mustang's attention. He smiled when he heard Alphonse's comment, but Edward's was a little disappointing. It reminded him of an event that had taken place a number of years ago…

_The bound hijacker let out an angry cry and leapt at the soldier with onyx hair and eyes. He apparently had a concealed knife installed in his automail. Before anyone could react, the colonel had raised his hand and snapped. A spiral of flames shot out and engulfed the man._

_The small blond had wide eyes, and his face was full of shock and even respect as he watched the older man's performance._

"_Amazing…" he said in complete awe._

Mustang quietly chuckled to himself at the memory and continued down the hall, Edward and Alphonse in tow.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Both Elrics were still desperately and nervously waiting for the Colonel to tell them something. He hadn't slipped one word since they had left HQ on foot.

If it were possible, Edward would have assumed that whatever had taken place in Hakuro's office had infuriated his commanding officer to a whole new degree. Watching his Mustang walk down the crowded streets of Central, his stride seemed more stiff than usual. He was angry. As soon as he had mentioned the 'talk' about their mission before they left, he had seen the frustration and annoyance embedded on his face. Not only that, but Edward also felt a sense of worry surrounding the older man, leading him to believe that at least part of the bad news had to do with him. That was what worried him.

After a long hike, with Alphonse helping his brother, the three arrived at a small café. As they opened the door, small bells rang out to announce their entrance. Unlike the outside, which Edward would have though to be some sort of musty antique shop, the interior of the café was extremely clean and almost unnaturally quiet. If not for the soft whisper of the radio, it would have been pin-drop silent. The Colonel led them inside and to a small table near the back. No one but the three of them occupied the shop. Despite the slight eeriness of the room, Edward felt a sense of calm wash over him. Something in the atmosphere made him feel at home. He immediately decided he liked this place.

Not long after they had made themselves comfortable in the soft, blue chairs, a young red-haired woman in a uniform skipped up to their table. She wore a bright smile and she spoke with such enthusiasm, Edward felt rather scared.

"Hello Roy! It's so good to see you again! I've missed you _so much_!"

Mustang turned to her with a smile mirroring hers, returning the greeting in an overly charming voice.

"And I've missed being served by such a lovely woman, Alivia."

Edward gaped at the sudden attitude change in his superior officer. He put a hand to his face and shook his head, dismissing it as the man's normal psychotic-womanizing personality.

The young woman giggled and took a small pen and notebook out of her apron pocket.

"The usual?" she said, looking at Roy. She seemed to be ignoring the two boys completely.

"Of course, miss," Mustang winked, causing the lady to giggle even more obnoxiously. She scribbled something illegibly on her notepad before looking at Edward and Alphonse with a confused and, Edward thought, slightly disgusted look. She eyed Alphonse sceptically as if she had only noticed the huge suit of armour right then. Instead of speaking to them, to Edward's great frustration, she turned back to the colonel.

"And, will there be anything for your … little friends?"

"No, his _little friends_ won't be having anything," Edward growled before Mustang had a chance to reply. The waitress scowled at him, then smiled at Roy and left them, heading to what Edward assumed was the kitchen. When he was sure she was out of earshot, he turned to his superior, a disgusted look on his face.

"That was completely nauseating. Thank you for scarring me for life."

"Now, Fullmetal, just because you have no skills when it comes to woman, that doesn't mean you should insult those who do," he smirked, "but unfortunately, I didn't bring you here to teach you social skills."

His face had gone serious, and Edward knew to pay attention. Despite the fact that the Colonel was an ass most of the time, he could switch from being an absolute jerk to a serious officer in a split second. It was an ability Edward admired, although he would never admit it as long as he was in control of himself.

"Well?" Edward asked after a minute of silence from his commanding officer. He was sure to lower his voice, knowing that whatever Mustang was going to say would be related to his case, which had already been classified 'Top Secret'.

"There's a problem," said Mustang.

Edward clenched his fists, and ground his teeth, "I know there's a bloody problem – there's some super-powered freak trying to _kill_ me! I'm tired of playing your little games. I want to know what the hell is going on!"

"Alphonse isn't coming."

"I – what?" said Edward. He would have been quite happy continuing his rant. The Colonel's abrupt statement had thrown him off.

Mustang ran a hand through his hair and leaned back into is chair with a sigh.

"Alphonse isn't coming," he said.

"What's the meaning of this, Colonel?" said Alphonse, exasperated.

Mustang turned to address the younger boy. He had a sincerely apologetic expression on his face.

"I'm sorry, Alphonse, but the state has insisted that you stay behind … for safety precautions." Here he looked at Edward pointedly, giving him the full explanation he needed.

"You mean … they think Al – my own _brother_ – would try to hurt me?" said Edward. His voice was getting erratically higher, and he rose from his seat. The Colonel didn't respond to his angry demands. He signalled him to lower himself and his voice. Only when Edward had done so did he continue.

"No, Fullmetal. The higher-ups are concerned that your brother would make you an easier target for anyone who does want to cause you harm. He stands out far too much, and they believe he might get in the way if I happen to need to use my talents. No offense to you of course, Alphonse."

Alphonse assured him that he took no offense whatsoever; he understood completely. Edward wasn't so understanding, but any complaints he had ready to shoot out were cut short. The young waitress had returned with the Colonel's coffee.

"Enjoy. I made sure it was absolutely perfect, just for you," she said.

"It smells just _wonderful_," said Mustang, once again adopting a completely different persona. The pretty waitress skipped back to the kitchen, giggling.

Edward gagged, "how can you _stand_ that?"

"Now, now, Fullmetal. You should never underestimate the delicate female species. Sometimes they can really … surprise you." He lifted the plain white mug off of its matching saucer. A small slip of paper was taped to the bottom of the cup. The two Elrics exchanged looks, and watched him slowly and carefully, peel it off, open it, and read its contents.

Edward waited two minutes for any kind of explanation. When he got none, he couldn't help but ask.

"Well?" he said, "what is it?"

Mustang finally looked up from the paper, a contemplative look over his features. He placed the note in one of his pockets.

"Nothing," he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Nothing?" Edward growled.

"Nothing. Nothing for you to worry about, anyway. Not right now. We're still aren't finished."

Edward realized the older man was trying to change the subject, but not really feeling up to any more arguing, he let it slide.

"Okay, fine. What else?" he questioned.

"I've received the full details of our mission," he said, taking another drink, "it's a little different than I would have thought."

"Explain."

"I did mention beforehand, that we would be trailing this assailant. Well, we're trailing him so much as dealing with the mess he's been leaving behind."

Here, Mustang pulled out the massive folder packed with various types and sized of paper. He spread a few of them out on the table.

"We're going to be investigating every single attack, murder, and assault that relates to your condition in any way, starting with a small town a few hours from here."

"So we're not actually going to Rush Valley then?"

"Oh we are. We just have to track our way there, and keep going until, hopefully, we've managed to catch up and catch our assassin."

Edward sighed, overwhelmed. He could feel his superior's gaze fixed on him, expecting some kind of response. Fortunately, Alphonse diverted his attention, wondering where he would be, and how he could be of any help.

"I've already arranged a room in the dorms for you, and you'll have full state library access. Any research you find would be a great help. Of course, if you wish, you're welcome to visit your home town at any time. The military has no power over you, so treat this as a sort of vacation from your brother."

Alphonse laughed, while his brother sat angrily, mumbling to himself.

"Of course I'll help as much as I can, Colonel. Even if I can't go with him, I'll give as much support as I can from here," said Alphonse.

"Glad to hear it."

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

According to Mustang, the first town on their list to inspect was a relatively secluded town east of Rush Valley, called Attripsa. A wealthy, elderly woman had been murdered – or more specifically, burned alive. The state wanted the two of them to confirm the assassin's role in the murder, and if not, find the real murderer.

Edward grimaced as he placed one foot on the train. They had allowed him another few days to fully recover from his mysterious ordeal. Finally, he could delay no longer, and was forced to begin his inevitable journey. He looked over to where Alphonse was standing, waving good-bye. Edward gave a small, short wave, and an equally small smile. He hated big good-byes. There was no point trying to avoid the unavoidable. With one last glance at his brother, he boarded.

Upon the train – _Reminisce Express_ it was called – Edward took a seat in one of the empty compartments. He was beside the window, but had no view of the brother he was leaving behind. He took out his silver pocket watch and flipped it open, reading, but not entirely registering the inscription inside. He closed his eyes, hanging loosely on to the smooth object. He clenched both hands, squeezing his eyes closed in an attempt to close off any emotion trying to squeeze its way through his defences.

The familiar sound of approaching footsteps broke up his thoughts, and he quickly closed his watch, stuffing it back into his pocket. Edward felt the train lurch underneath him, telling him his journey had begun. Just as he's prophesized, Colonel Mustang appeared in the doorway of his compartment with, unsurprisingly, a large cup of coffee.

"Trying to hide from me, Fullmetal?" he smirked.

Edward looked to him from the window, an eyebrow raised.

"Oh no, I haven't needed to, since – you know – you're doing such a _fantastic_ job keeping an eye on me."

Mustang only laughed and took the seat opposite Edward. He didn't say anything more, only opening a thick book he had been carrying. Edward turning back to the window, glad not to be forced into any kind of conversation. He watched the buildings of Central pass by at an increasingly faster rate, and slowly become trees and wildlife as they rode further and further away from Central City.

* * *

A/N

Been a while...and I return after almost a year...with crap! Mua! Oh well. I just hope it isn't as crappy as previous chapters...which I'm thinking of rewriting....eventually. My writer's class is taking up a lot of my time XP, so I've no idea when the next update will be (hopefully less than a year).

Oh, yes. I thank everyone who has bothered to review. I say that because I lost track of how many people I replied to, and I would feel bad if I didn't thank everyone personally.

Well I'm sure I had something important to say, but I forget, so I'll just have to leave you with this piece of advice: Don't attempt to eat any of Dairy Queen's waffle bowl sunday things! They make you sick, they're loads of calories, and they aren't even very good at all. Ew.

Alrighty then,

Cheese out.


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